


Neon Lights

by betthoven



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Keith has the best dads, Multi, coachella au, everyone’s hot, i mostly wrote this at midnight and i don’t grammar good, no bad guys, no one has this au so i wrote it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betthoven/pseuds/betthoven
Summary: What is music to the human race? Some sort of ritual, a way to pass time, or something not that important to think over it? Sadly, as time went by, people think less on how music affects the human spirit and more on the normal mundaneness of life. But, there is a small handful that hasnot fallen back. They are the ones that use music for its one and true purpose: expression. A small pathway to show your true emotions out. It can be through classical, rock, and most recently, electronic. The beats, the rhythm, everything has an emotion.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Or the Coachella AU that no one asked for that was mostly self-indulgent.This is written by my dear friend Gaby who (once again) has requested that I post it here.





	Neon Lights

What is music to the human race? Some sort of ritual, a way to pass time, or something not that important to think over it? Sadly, as time went by, people think less on how music affects the human spirit and more on the normal mundaneness of life. But, there is a small handful that has not fallen back. They are the ones that use music for its one and true purpose: expression. A small pathway to show your true emotions out. It can be through classical, rock, and most recently, electronic. The beats, the rhythm, everything has an emotion.

At least that's how I like to think about it. Thought Keith as he typed away on his laptop. The 20 year-old Korean-American college student sat in front of a desk, surrounded by empty cups of ramen, illuminated by his laptop in his dark dorm room, wearing nothing but a baggy red hoodie and black boxers. His black headphones with neon purple accents contrasted from his long black hair. The dark eye bags resting under his eyes jumped against his pale skin, the only signs that revealed his nightly activities that he did unconsciously. A few more intense taps of the keypad and keyboard next to him, Keith stopped, adjusted his headphones, and closed his eyes. After a minute or two, he slowly opened his eyes and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “That seems good enough.” Keith stretched his arms up to the ceiling, making his back pop. “Now, what time is it?” After a long, stretched out yawn, he lets his arms fall limp to his sides, and grabbed his phone. On it were 7 missed calls from a contact under the name of “Shiro”.

“SHIT.” Keith suddenly turned away from the desk, causing the ramen cups to spill over the dorm floor. He stubbed his toe trying to put on some discarded gray sweatpants. “FUCK.” He tripped over his two feet trying to slip on some red converses. “SHIT.” He grabbed a book bag from the foot of his bed, shoved his laptop in it, and ran out of his bed room. He stopped in front of his bathroom door. 

“Do I have enough time to brush my teeth?” No one answered Keith’s rhetorical question. “Screw it, I'll just eat like half a box of Tic-Tacs.” He ran to the kitchenette to grab the said Tic-Tac box, a single protein bar, and sprinted out of his dorm and into the campus grounds. As Keith ran, eating the protein bar and popping some Tic-Tacs into his mouth, he passed some college students, like himself, playing instruments, painting on canvases, dancing, or even reciting some lines for a play. After all, this was the Garrison University for the Arts, one of the top schools for anything fine arts and music related in the country. In his marathon, Keith pulled out his phone and called the contact that was shown on his screen. After a couple of rings, the voice of an older male came onto the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” panted Keith. “Shiro, it's Keith.”

“Sup, didn't you hear my calls? I can't keep being your alarm everyday.”

“I know and I'm sorry, I sleep like a rock.”

“I understand that Keith, but I'm asking why you didn't respond to my calls.” Keith didn't respond right away, thinking of the correct answer. Also he had to concentrate on weaving through a group of ballet dancers twirling around.

“I was...working.” Keith hoped that his hesitation wasn't obvious, but Shiro knew him long enough to know when Keith wasn't telling him something.

“Keith…,” Shiro let out a sigh. “Did you pull an all-nighter trying to finish a new song?”

“N-No I did not-ACK!” Keith barely managed to dodge a fake sword being swung by a drama kid. “Okay, okay, maybe I didn't sleep so that I could drop a new song at the club today.” Keith could sense a lecture about to start.

“Keith-”

“BUT, I finished, so I won't pull an all-nighter anytime soon.”

“Anytime soon?” Keith hear Shiro's brow quirked up in concern.

Now it was Keith’s turn to sigh, even though it was a bit hard from all the running he was currently doing. “Alright, alright, I'll try not to do anymore all-nighters.”

“That's good to know.” There was some silence on the other end of the line, but it was soon interrupted by Shiro. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something. Today-”

“Not now Shiro, I'm about to reach the Garrison’s music department! I'll talk to you later!”

“Wait Keith, the thing is that your classes-” Keith ended the call before Shiro could finished, pocketed his phone, and turned his jog into a full on sprint. He entered into the large building, dodged people carrying tubas and basses, until he reached a room at the end of the hall on the second floor. He rammed into the door and came crashing into a fairly large room with desks aligned in rows and columns and a wall of windows was parallel to the door that Keith almost broke down. On the wall farthest from the door, in front of the large blackboard, stood a handsome middle-age man with tan skin, an angular face, with white hair slicked back and rectangular glasses frames his face. The man was wearing well-fitted long khaki pants and lilac button up rolled to his elbows. He didn't seem to hear Keith's loud footsteps from outside the hall, but he did noticed him when he came barreling through the door, panting as he yelled an apology.

“I'M SORRY FOR BEING LATE MR. ULAZ!”

The man next to the blackboard, who is the so-called Mr. Ulaz, stopped writing on the blackboard, and faced the fazed Keith. A small smile appeared on his face.

“Did you know that you only have afternoon classes today Keith?” After a couple seconds of silence, the words sink into Keith, and saying that he got flustered is an understatement.

“W-well it s-seems that I-I forgot.” The poor student couldn't even form words due to his embarrassment. Ulaz started to walk to the back of the room, towards the red-faced male.

“It’s fine,” said Ulaz. “Nobody except me is in this room to judge you.” Keith had an unamused expression due to that phrase. Ulaz just chuckled. “Also, you can call me Dad since there's no class in session.” A simple pat on the head caused Keith to speak.

“Yea I know that, but it's weird. Like, I’m almost 21 and I don't live with you and Thace anymore, also he’s like my boss and you're like my teacher and stuff.” Keith pouted.

“I know, I know,” Ulaz ruffled Keith’s black hair. “But remember that even if you're 50 and married, me and Thace are still your parents.” Keith just pouted even more and looked anywhere but Ulaz. 

“Also…,” Ulaz’s grip on Keith's head tightened. A smile that promised murder was plastered across his face. “Were you doing an all-nighter last night, hm?”

Keith entered full-blown panic mode. “N-no, and i-if so, I doubt you have any proof.” Keith tried to pull on a cool façade, but that faltered a little when Ulaz’s grip on his hair tighten even more. “Y-you're hurting me, Dad.” Suddenly, Ulaz twisted his wrist so that Keith was facing Ulaz. 

Keith knew he was strong, but he barely reached 5’11, and Ulaz was clearly at least 6’3 and could beat Shiro in arm wrestling. This left Keith with no anvil of escape, leaving him only to stare at Ulaz with eyes wide as saucers and his last thoughts being, I'm so boned I'm so boned I'm so fucking boned.

Just before Keith accepted his demise, Ulaz lifted a finger in front of Keith’s face. “First piece of evidence, you usually only call me “Dad” when you want to get out of something.” Another finger went up, and Ulaz pointed to both of Keith's eyes. 

“Second piece of evidence, you look like you came straight out of the newest Walking Dead episode, but as a Walker.” A third finger joined in. “And the third and final piece of evidence is that you only forget what day it is if you have less than two hours of sleep. So next time don't come saying to me that I don't have proof when the evidence is written all over your face, kiddo.” Ulaz ended the last word in a snarky tone and finally released his death grip from the top of Keith's scalp. “Also, I know you did an all-nighter to finish a new song.”

“How did you know that..?” Sputtered Keith. “Did Shiro tell you?” Ulaz just shook his head and pointed towards Keith’s neck. Keith looked down and on his neck were his black and purple headphones laid. “Oh.” He said. “Guess I forgot about them.” He quickly shoved them into his bag.

“Keith,” sighed Ulaz. “You need a normal sleeping schedule.”

“Yea I know, but I really wanted to finish the song.”

“I understand. I believe that me and Thace’s stubbornness rubbed off on you.”

“Hey,” Keith shrugged. “I learned from the best.”

“Yes you did.” Ulaz swung his arm across Keith's shoulders and started leading him toward the row of desks in the room. 

“Now, your first class won't be in about a couple of hours, so I think you should take a nap.” He plopped Keith down in a desk in front of the teachers desk. “I'll wake you up before class starts, kiddo.” Ulaz patted Keith's head as he walked away.

“Thanks, but please stop calling me kiddo.” Keith yawned.

Ulaz just chuckled. “I won't stop calling you that.” He then went back to working on the blackboard. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.” And with that, Keith's eyelids dropped to the sound of chalk against blackboard.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Keith felt a nudge at his ankle. “Hey kiddo, wake up.” Another nudge. “You’ll die of starvation is you don't wake up soon.” Keith finally rose from his slumber after a strong nudge that felt more like a kick towards his shin.

“Mhng…” Keith starts rubbing the sleep off his eyes, and once his vision becomes clear, he sees Ulaz standing in front of his desk, holding two brown lunch bags. “Is class about to start soon?” He asks while stretching, his back popping slightly.

“Class will start in about an hour.” Ulaz dropped both lunch bags onto the desk and pulled up a chair. “But your stomach sounded like a dying Chewbacca, so I had to put some food in you.” He grabbed a bag and started to open it. “Did you skip breakfast again?”

“Does a protein bar count as breakfast?” Ulaz just stares at Keith unamused. Keith cleared his throat. “Then I guess I skipped breakfast then.” He grabbed the other lunch bag and looked at it. “By the way, where did you get the other lunch bag?”

“I stole it from Iverson.”

Keith made a choking sound. “What the fuck.”

“Language, Keith.” Said Ulaz, unwrapping a sandwich. “He deserves it though. Ever since he won the teacher of the year award, he's been acting like a dick.”

“Language.” Smirked Keith.

“Watch it. I can still deduct points from your extra credit assignment.” Warned Ulaz.

“Sorry.” Keith decide it was best to look through his lunch instead of being snarky.

“Anyways,” Ulaz took a bite of his lunch. 

“Iverson’s been acting all high and mighty ever since he won the award. The only real reason we gave him the award was because his classes were filled with brats.”

“...I'm in his class.”

“I know.”

“Rude.”

“Still,” Ulaz took another bite from his sandwich. “I believe that's a good enough reason to steal his lunch.”

Keith just nodded and took out Iverson’s sandwich. “Huh, a BLT. Iverson has some good taste.” Keith was about to take a bite, but stopped. “Wait, can I eat this?”

“Iverson’s lactose intolerant, so yes, you can.”

“How convenient.” Keith finally took a bite of his sandwich. “By the way, this display of pettiness is a bad example for your son, Dad.”

“First of all,” Ulaz pointed his sandwich towards Keith. “Don't speak with your mouth full.” Keith’s shit-eating grin turned into a straight line. His sandwich suddenly seemed more interesting. “And second, you're the one talking. You don't know how to cook, have a normal sleeping schedule, and how to wash your clothes. Hell, you literally either call me, Thace, or Shiro when you're at the laundromat because you don't know how to work a washer nor a dryer. Yet here you are, preaching on how my pettiness is a bad example to a non-functioning human being.”

“Oof, that hurts.” Keith said with no emotion whatsoever. “Sadly, it has no permanent damage to my ego.” Keith finished the rest of his lunch in one bite.

“Yea, yea.” Chuckled Ulaz. “Slow down though, I don't want you choking on Iverson’s lunch.” Ulaz also just finished his lunch. “Now let's pick up this mess, class is about to start soon.”

“Sure thing, Ulaz.” Keith started helping Ulaz pick up the discarded lunch bags and sandwich bags, but then stopped. “Hey.” His sudden stop seemed to catch Ulaz’s attention.

“Yes, Keith?”

Keith seemed a bit nervous on what he was about to say. “...Thanks for getting me lunch,...Dad.”

A soft smile spreads across Ulaz's face. “No problem, kiddo.” He pats Keith on the head. He walks up to a trash can next to his desk and throws away the empty lunch bags. “Now that all the evidence that shows I'm sympathetic is disposed of, go to your seat. Class is about to start.”

Not even a second after Ulaz said that, students started shuffling into the room and finding their seats. Before Keith goes to his seat, he gives Ulaz a small smile. 

“Gotcha, Mr. Ulaz.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Okay class, that's the bell. The lesson is over. Go to your next class if you have another one.” Students started shuffling out the room as Ulaz spoke. “Also, don't forget that your Music Theory final project is due next week!” Almost all of students groaned at that comment. “Yea, yea, whine all you want. Just don't whine when you have adult responsibilities and have to pay taxes!”

Keith put his stuff into his book bag and walked up to the professor’s desk. After he reached the desk, he handed Ulaz a USB drive. “Good thing I already finished mine, Teach.”

“And that's why you're the top student of your class.” Ulaz grabbed the drive from Keith. “Good job, kiddo.”

“Thanks, but please stop calling me kiddo. I'm not ten.”

“Never.” Ulaz pocketed the drive and started organizing papers on his desk. 

“Don't you have Iverson's class next?”

“Yes but I hate him as a person so I don't want to go.”

“Go,” Ulaz shooed Keith away. “I don't want to be the reason you're late to that egghead’s class.”

“Alright,” Keith started walking towards the door. “Afternoon class tomorrow as well?”

“Yes. And have fun with a pissed off Iveson!”

“Will do!” Keith was already out the door when he yelled that statement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Iverson gave all of his classes a pop quiz since no one would confess on who stole his lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope all of you enjoyed this first chapter! There will be more to come!


End file.
